


Sunday Surprises

by Of_The_White_Wolf



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Actors, Boston, Dodger - Freeform, Dogs, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Massachusetts, Mild Language, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hints of implied drinking, teeny tiny reference to illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 23:44:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_The_White_Wolf/pseuds/Of_The_White_Wolf
Summary: Sunday Night Football is a tradition for you and your favorite Marvel men, only this season's first Sunday brings a few extra surprises to you and boyfriend, Sebastian Stan.Set in Boston, MA.
Relationships: Sebastian Stan & Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Sunday Surprises

You sit on the ottoman, twiddling your phone in your hands waiting for Sebastian to find his coat. Jax bounces around the rest of the grey leather couch, disturbing the abundance of blasted throw pillows your mother insisted you buy when she first visited your’s and Seb’s apartment in Boston. Somehow, Jax hasn’t completely destroyed the merlot and sand throws, just a sprinkle of black fur littering their patterns. A quick ping rings out from your phone, accompanied by rapid fire vibrations buzzing up your thumbs, notifying you that Chris has sent yet another “are y’all coming yet” text. 

“Babe, kick off is in 30 mintues! I will not be late to the first watch party of the season because you can’t find your one pair of Pats socks just to appease Chris!” You holler towards the bedroom where Seb is inevitably wasting time to avoid being in a room with multiple football obsessed humans.

“Y/N, I swear they were in the drawer and now they’re gone! Did you wash them or give them to Jax?” Seb playfully questions back from the depths of his closet. You know full well the socks are already on his feet. Hopping off the ottoman, you grab the dog’s leash and your jacket as motivation to move your boyfriend along. The hardwood floors creak as you walk through the kitchen, narrowly missing the island with your hip bones and whistling to Jax so he can bound to Seb and investigate the slowdown. 

“Seb, seriously, can we just go? It’s not like Chris will give two shakes about your socks. He’ll be too busy complaining about my disgrace of a jersey to be disappointed in your not-actually-missing socks,” you sigh as you wander back to the bedroom and lean against the door frame, feigning annoyance. 

“Fair point, Y/N. He won’t even get near you in your Seahawks jersey; bad juju or something,” Seb spins around and strides over to the walkway, reaching around your waist and tucking you into his side while he jokes. As you travel back up the hall to the front door, you look at the pictures hanging from the walls, more of your mother’s visiting touches. All perfectly angled and spaced down the walkway and throughout the living room, moments from your lives together and alone. One of you with a client’s daughter back in Seattle brings a fond memory of your time with youngsters and your retired lesson horse to the front of your mind. Determined not to cry, you sniffle and hustle the boys out the door.

Finally ready, supposedly lucky Patriots socks on his feet, Sebastian gathers his sunglasses and car keys while you hook Jax up to his harness and wander down to the car. The oversized labrador flings himself into the backseat of your Xterra. Seb catches you for a kiss on the cheek before starting the car and heading across town to Evans’ place.   
“Remind me why we’re going to this again? We could just as easily watch the game in our living room and not have to hear him and Anthony scream at the TV for two hours of the Pats winning… again..” Seb whines.

“Because, A: I’ll be yelling too and you would complain either way. B: Chris always hosts Sunday Night Football, we host Monday, that’s how it’s worked since he learned I love the game, babe. And C: you love me so…. Also you know the sex is always better after a good screaming match between me, Chris, and the TV.” 

“That last one is so not a reason but I’ll let it slide because the sex is always great. Did you tell Chris we’re bringing Jax or are you just assuming he and Dodger will leave everyone to mind their own business?” Seb asks as the black moose tries to climb over his arm onto the center console and into your lap.

“I texted him about it last week. He said it was fine. Plus, they’ll make each other tired so we don’t have to take him on a run tonight. More time for activities,” you giggle as you shove the dog back into his territory and wiggle your eyebrows in Seb’s direction.

“You are so smart, you know that? Better knock on wood he doesn’t interrupt again like last week with the damn light up ball.” 

“Hey , you bought him that so I take zero blame. Turn up at the corner. There’s a spot to park right there,” pointing to an empty space just a few doors down from Chris’ place.

You climb out and grab Jax while Seb grabs the case of beer from the back and start up the steps, laughing at the obnoxious yells already coming from his stairwell. The door’s unlocked the way it always is when you have watch parties, so Seb turns the knob and Jax goes bounding through the hall in search of the noises after you drop his leash. A resounding “oof” and various yelps of “dammit, Jax” and “hey, buddy!” make you burst into a fit of laughter as you and Seb round into the kitchen. Spying Mackie on the floor with Jax square on top of him, you reach around to help him up, only to have Dodger come bouncing out from behind the island and toppling you over next to him, leading everyone into a second bout of laughter. 

“Boys, off! Jesus Chris, teach your kid some manners,” you jokingly chide as you hop up and start greeting the harem standing around the kitchen island.

“You say that like your’s is so trained,” Chris sighs humorously as Jax launches his front paws onto the counter to swipe a piece of cheese. You shove him off and toss a rogue chunk of cheddar in his general vicinity, giggling at Chris’ hand motions toward the dog.

“At least he knows what he wants,” you shrug and grab a cube for yourself and snicker. “What did you expect from oversized bear cub? Seb feeds him off the table all the time.”

“Excuse me, he was your dog first, and you started that. I just can’t be the asshole who denies him!” Seb shouts from inside the fridge while he digs for a beer that didn’t just come out of a roasting car. 

“Alright, this is fun, but can we actually turn the game on now? Kick off should be in five and I need to judge this rendition of the National Anthem beforehand,” Anthony interrupts the dog banter while heading to the connected living room. 

Jeremy nods and lifts his beer in agreement from the barstool to your left, adding, “Just turn it up and we can watch from here. Y/N, grab yourself something and lets catch up for a minute. Tell me about the ways you plan to ensure the Seahawks somehow take it all this year.” 

You lift your Yeti and aim the straw at Seb in response, “I’ll stick to water, gotta be functional enough to get this lightweight home tonight. Russell’s got a better O-line this year starting out. If he can whip his runners into shape for the long passing game we’ll be knocking on the playoff door easy. So long as Pete has mustered up a good, fresh defensive line, they can block anything and everything from here to New England.” 

Seb makes his way around the kitchen to you and reaches around to bear hug you. “Babe, you’ve never denied yourself at least one beer at a game. What did I miss? I am also not a lightweight. It was Jaeger and it was ONE TIME!” He leans into your back and continues to hold you with one arm and reaches for a chip. “And, we were all drunk. It wasn’t just me. Chris was puking for hours when we got home that night. Mackie was passed out on the couch. Downey had to play sorority sister and hold Chris up. At least I was responsible enough to call you to come get me!” 

“Actually, Robert had already called me and I was on my way, Honey, but whatever you say. I’m fine, really, just a little nauseated from your terrible driving skills. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll be golden.” You turn around in Seb’s arms and soak in his warmth while reassuring him you aren’t reaching imminent death. “Now, let’s go watch shitty football!” You slip under his arm and drag him toward the leather sectional where Chris and Anthony were trying to convince Jax and Dodger to not wrestle in front of the game.

“I heard that! Oh, c’mon! Boys, out! Go play in my room. I need to see what BS call the ref has made already,” Chris yelled as he launched a squeaky ball down the hallway towards his master bedroom for the dogs to chase. You jump to the side so you don’t get taken out again at the knees and Seb pulls you down to curl up into his lap in the long corner of the couch.   
“You just assume it’s bull because you think every ref has it out for Tom Brady since ‘deflategate’. The tight end was clearly over the line of scrimmage before the ball moved!” You shoot a playful slap at his arm as you shout agreeance with the ref’s call.

First quarter turns to second and as half time creeps closer, you still feel queasy. It comes in random waves that are just enough to make you curl into yourself tighter and feel a small spark of fear for Chris’ upholstery, but not enough to leave.   
Seb notices you shift your hands into you stomach and prods for answers.“Babe, seriously, you have a body of steel. You didn’t eat anything crazier than usual yesterday and you actually haven’t eaten much today from what I’ve seen. Are you okay? Do you need anything? Do you want to go home? No -- I know that’s a dumb question. I just don’t want you getting sicker here cuz you hate being sick in front of people.” 

“I’m fine, just -- jimminy christmas trees what did you eat? It fricken smells Seb. Get away, go get some listerine or something, please,” you shove him off of you as whatever forsaken food wafts into your nose, throwing you over the edge. By luck, you make it to the spare bathroom in time to dry heave and throw up whatever water and minuscule amount of crackers were in your system. 

“Ungh, shit. This is going to be a long season,” you mutter into the porcelain throne of misery. Adding a grunt of effort, you lift yourself up to rinse your mouth out and splash some water onto your face. “Maybe this was a one time thing. Maybe I won’t be riddled with this for three months or so. I’m 100% going to be fine,” you tell yourself while staring into the mirror, trying hard to convince yourself that it was a fluke and morning sickness wasn’t real. 

“Y/N, you ok? I’m sorry the chips smelled weird. I think Mackie switched them out. Hey, you look a little pale. You need to go lay down?” Seb rattles off concerns and gives you a visual once over when you open the bathroom door and make your way back into the kitchen.

“Seriously, Y/N, you look like you might fall over on us. Please, the guest room is clean and open. Ma made sure it was done when she visited last week. Just go lay down and take a break for a bit. You can’t tell us this is a fluke. You’re a vet assistant. Strange smells don’t do shit to you…” Chris came over and aimed you toward his spare room while Seb grabbed your water. 

“Dear God, everyone chill I’m fine! And I refuse to lay down in that guest room where I know for a fact that your teenage boy style New England Patriots bed sheets are currently laid out. I can’t defile a Seahawks jersey in that way. It’s straight up blasphemous,” you grumble at the boys who are trying too hard to take care of you. You think your grumbling works until you see a few black dots and grab Seb’s arm to steady yourself.   
“Ok, fine. I’ll go lay down but only because that room probably doesn’t have whatever mystery dip stench is coming from the kitchen, NOT because I am dizzy and tired and kinda still nauseous,” you state matter-of-factly at both Seb and Chris. 

“Your grip’s awful tight for someone who’s just getting away from a smell. Okay, okay, point taken, c’mon.” Seb guides you to the back of the apartment while simultaneously avoiding your half-assed slap to the back of his head.   
You pitifully look down at the bed and Sebastian stifles a laugh. You were right about the sheets, but also too out of energy to resist the calling of a nap, even if it meant sleeping on Patriots logos. He tucks you in, kissing the top of your head and telling you he’ll check on you after half time. You don’t register him shut the light off and let the dogs in to cuddle with you. You’re too busy rolling over into the pillows.

Somewhere after halftime, you wake up with Jax next to your arm and Dodger on your opposite leg, both dogs dead to the world. You revel in the moment of peace, smiling down at your not super flat stomach currently covered by the jersey you won’t be able to wear by the Super Bowl. You hear a dull set of hurrahs and cheers from the hall, assuming the Patriots got an impressive first down or a touchdown, and giggle. “Well, I ain’t cheering em on, but those stupid sheets seemed to calm you down I guess. At least we know Chris will like ya.” You rub along your stomach, joking about your baby’s future in football. As the cheering dies down, you continue to think about the million little things that will happen from this point on. You only found out about your pregnancy a couple days ago, haven’t even told Seb, yet.

“Waitin’ on the right moment, huh, baby?” You whisper to your stomach as you think of the perfect way to tell your boyfriend. Kids weren’t supposed to be in the works yet, but your birth control had other ideas. Damn that .01 percent. With a smile and last sigh of peace, you throw the sheets back with a plan.  
Just as you work your way out of the bed, feeling alive and functional again, the dogs leap up and run out to alert the boys of your movement. You make your way down the hall and into Seb who meets you halfway with a kiss.

“Feeling better? You look much less dead, Babe.” Seb smiles at you and embraces you tightly.

“Mhmm, much better. Your badmhmm….” You nod and mumble into his chest while soaking in his warmth.

“Didn’t catch that last part. Hmm?” Seb looks down at you with a quizzical eyebrow. You look up with a smile and press a kiss to his lips. 

“I said, your baby likes the Patriots. They finally settled when I laid down and bundled in those stupid sheets.” You turn your lips up into a smirk waiting for the words to settle in and his reaction to launch. 

“Wait, what baby? Jax doesn’t give a shit about the Patriots. I’m los…..” Seb’s confused expression turns into a bright smile when he registers you putting a hand to your stomach and your telling smirk. “You mean, our baby? As in one currently growing as in your gonna be a mom? I’m gonna be a father? No shit? Baby you’re shitting me? HOLY SHIT!” Seb rattles off curses of excitement in happy tears and litters you with kisses and pulls you back into a tight hug.

“What are we yelling about?”

“Why are you two crying?”

“What did we miss?”

The guys all ask in one quick sweep while staring at your exchange. You look at them from in Seb’s arms and ask if they should know.

“What do you think, Seb, tell ‘em? Leave ‘em guessing? Or be kind?” 

“Baby please, we can’t be cruel after this little moment.” 

“Ok fine. Only cuz we both suck at secrets. I was just telling Seb that his baby really likes the Patriots because they only calmed down once i was laying down on Chris’ blasted sheets. So I am assuming this kiddo’s gonna be a big fan of uncle Chris in a few years,” you retell the tale and walk over to the guys while they all start smiling wildly. 

“Baby?! What the hell Y/N!? Shit so happy for you, Smalls!”

“Seb, man you’re so done for.”

“Dude, I am so happy for you."

“You two are going to be amazing parents.”

“I call dibs on buying baby’s first jersey!”

The congratulations and hugs fly in the kitchen, week one game completely abandoned in favor of your news. As it dies down and the fourth quarter timer is heard from the living room, everyone saunters back to catch the last two minutes and other game recaps. Seb wanders away to his coat and calls the dogs over to help him with his own surprise. You turn around to call him over only to see Jax trotting at you with a strange collar attached to him. 

“Where did this bowtie come from, huh, Bubs?” You reach down to inspect the adorable black and white tuxedo bowtie collar and find a box attached at the buckle. As you unbuckle the collar and separate the box, you stand up and see Seb coming out from the hall with a sweaty, nervous smile. 

“Babe, what’s this collar? And did you forget to take this weird magnetic tag off?” You toss the cardboard back at him, only to underestimate its weight and lob it at his head. 

Seb catches it and pulls you closer. “It’s for him to wear if you say ‘yes’. But you have to look inside the weird box first, Y/N.” Seb returns the box to your hand and lets you inspect it.   
You open the taped slit and find a black velvet box, immediately you have to wipe tears from your eyes so you can look at Seb’s cerulean ones. 

“I’m only gonna ask this once baby. You’re my best girl, closest friend, fiercest supporter, my rock. And now the mother of my child. I don’t ever want to spend another day without knowing we will come home to each other. So, Y/N L/N, will you marry me?” 

You can barely form the words, but a choked “yes” and the happiest sob of your life come out as you launch yourself into Seb’s arms. A slough of hoops, hollars and more congratulations come from the vicinity of the couch, along with howls and barks from the dogs at your knees. You wrap your hand up to Seb’s neck and pull him down for another kiss. “I love every Sunday of fall. But this is the best Sunday ever, Baby.”


End file.
